


As the poets say

by acheforhim (oaknshild)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: "porn", Domesticity, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Growing Old Together, I meant to write a cute moment between them, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, but oops my hand slipped, deliberate use of religious imagery, just a bit though, so guess what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oaknshild/pseuds/acheforhim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The world still could disappear under their feet, it would be barely noticed: fire and water, earth and skies. They could rebuild earth and make a home to them anew. They were all they needed.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the poets say

“Good morning, my love”. The words were said in good Lithuanian.

Hannibal Lecter couldn’t help but smile.

He could smell the sweet mix of fruits and homemade bakery in which his lover had worked moments earlier, the fragrant suavity of the lavenders arranged by the light room and the vivid musky warmth of the man.

His grin widened.

“How did you know?”, he demanded, voice muffled by the pillow underneath while he stretched, languid, in the large bed. The mattress creaked, suffering under sudden movements, adjusting to the weigh above, and the older man felt hands wandering from the small of his back to his broad shoulders.

A soft touch, silky on his stubbled cheeks, led his lips to others he knew by heart – and thorough, insistent exploration. His heart hammered in response and, for a moment, he thought his chest wouldn’t bear the strong pressure within.

He let himself drown in the familiar heat.

Eyes closed, his body shifted under the man above him, contained by usual curves and angles, and they instinctively deepened their connection. Fingers enlaced strands, hands contoured muscles, limbs held tighter, throats delivered low and rough moans, echoing, reverberating inside each other, hips moving in a sublime harmony, sending shivers between them – electric circuits burning under skin.

“Please”, a breathy voice begged when they finally parted, yet none could say which of them had spoken.

A slight motion and the only layer of clothing separating them was gone. A gasp, a few shared breathless instants, and they became one again.

It was intense still, eyes never quite parting – they knew when the bliss had become nearly unbearable, with their heads jerked back, sudden quivers and mute cries. Their movements had been beautifully choreographed, paths had been trailed by lips, tongues, teeth and nails uncountable times, preferences learnt and gleefully overused a long ago and yet, every touch seemed to send them on fire, weakened and profoundly changed, every kiss was holy communion, every vocalization was the most beautiful melody ever composed, performed exclusively by them and for their own sake.

The world still could disappear under their feet, it would be barely noticed: fire and water, earth and skies. They could rebuild earth and make a home to them anew. They were all they needed.

It was paradise still, divinity met through a path of flesh and blood and bones.

When Hannibal laid Will on his back, never leaving the tightness of their embrace, and the new composition allowed him to touch the powerful knob inside his partner, Will could see the ceiling above him change from plain white to Byzantine mosaics of gold and blue.

His body went taut and he couldn’t breathe as a wave of pure joy washed over him. He praised the name of a god in a feverish hope to survive this.

The god heard his prays and answered them.

He released right after him.

Panting, shivering, blind, they stayed together, entwined, relishing the hazy ecstasy. Hannibal could sense a drumming rhythm under his touch and felt his own heart beating in sync. They were one.

Will lifted his jaw and claimed Hannibal’s lips once again. “How could I know”, he started, remembering the question that lingered at the back of his skull, and laughed, open and clear, gaze locked to weirdly maroon eyes. Twelve years, eight months and sixteen days since he wanted to kill them both, since the moment he realized there was no life to him besides Hannibal Lecter, since his _becoming_ , and his partner – his lover, his _husband_ in mind, body and soul – still wanted to hear him say it.

He let the intensity, deep-seated in his own core, bloom into his eyes.

“I don’t _love_ you, I can’t say that. It’s blasphemy”. They laughed low in unison. “I knew because you and I, Hannibal… We’re the same.” Hannibal closed his eyes and leaned into the smooth touch on his cheek. He looked into the bright pieces of sky shining under him and let fingers follow silvery curls.

“Remarkable boy”, he barely recognised his voice, rough as it was, accent thick in his tongue. “I think I’ll eat your heart.”

Their lips met again, and both ignored the tears that had started to fall. He breathed in the scent of his little man, his reason and his life.

 _His_ boy.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is a reference to Madeline Miller's quote.  
> This text is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Let me know if there's some problematic choice of words, okay? :)
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://acheforhim.tumblr.com/)!


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